


"Engaged"

by yes_but_am_i_a_pretty_lady



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: "its for a case", Au- divorced from Mary, Case Fic, M/M, references to The Fall, relationship clinic, spoilers for seasons 2/3, total bullshit but yknow, woop! spoilers for season 1 as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yes_but_am_i_a_pretty_lady/pseuds/yes_but_am_i_a_pretty_lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock proposes to John for a case. They have to act like a couple for 2 weeks. Hilarity, confusion, and questions arise about motive, means, and opportunity. Oh, and sexuality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Case of Identity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/673315) by [jkay1980](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkay1980/pseuds/jkay1980). 



> yes, i know what y'all are thinking.  
> "BUT KIP!" you cry. "3 FICS AT ONCE? HOW WILL YOU DO IT?" your voices, together, are rather tinny and unpleasant to listen to. but your words are important.  
> THERE WILL BE A CYCLE. this fic, Sleepover, A Knock At The Door. i will rotate updating chapters. this cycle has nothing to do with Devisama's and my fic(s) nor to do with my headcanons. i will not have a specific day that i update them, and there will be an announcement on my tumblr, dr-john-im-not-gay-watson. link below.
> 
> notes about the fic! so. my first super long sherlock fic i ever read was A Case of Identity. (if you havent read that you should, link above.) it kinda inspired this fic. i stole maybe a line or two, and the idea. so. also im having a lot of fun writing this i have to tell you. i started this a while back, like just when i joined the fandom, but now it is more relevant because i have an ao3. and i like it! i really, honest to god, like this fic. i hope you do too.
> 
> READ. THE. TAGS.
> 
> any and all help with the title and the summary would be appreciated.
> 
> my sherlock blog>> http://dr-john-im-not-gay-watson.tumblr.com/  
> show_comments=true&view_full_work=true#

John carefully adjusted his jumper. He hadn’t been on a date in months, and was rightfully excited. That’s right- John Watson was going on a date. It had been a while before he warmed up to the idea of dating after divorcing Mary. But he was ready to get back in the game. He met Juniper online and she seemed like such a lovely person. He was looking forward to meeting her. John went downstairs and paused. He checked in on Sherlock in the living room (thinking), and headed out.

 

When he got to the restaurant, he met Juniper outside and they started a conversation. She was very nice and seemed innocent and sweet. They ordered and started talking about her work when John got a text. He purposefully ignored it- _‘Thank God it’s on vibrate,’_ John thought. His phone buzzed a total of 7 times before Juniper asked if he was going to answer the texts. John gave her a grateful look before looking at his phone under the table.

 

**Come home immediately. -SH**

**John. -SH**

**JOHN. -SH**

**John, this is of grave importance. -SH**

**It could be dangerous. -SH**

**Well, not really. But I still need you to come home. -SH**

**John, please. -SH**

 

John’s eyebrows were raised by that last one. _‘7 texts,’_ he thought. _‘What’s so important?’_ He sent a quick **I’m on a date, Sherlock.** , and went back to Juniper.

 

“I’m sorry, my flatmate’s being a drama queen,” John apologized. He grinned half heartedly. “He’s very… demanding."

 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I get that all the time,” Juniper answered, smiling back. Just then, John’s phone buzzed again.

 

He rolled his eyes. “I really am sorry, he’s such a diva,” John said while pulling out his phone.

 

**You won’t be needing to do that anymore. -SH**

 

John furrowed his brow.

 

**What do you mean?**

 

**I’m not gracing that with an answer unless you come home. -SH**

**Can you wait an hour?** _'What a stupid question,’_ John thought. _‘The answer is obviously-'_

 

**No. -SH**

 

John sighed. “Juniper, I’m so sorry. I have to go. Apparently something is of grave importance at home,” John said while rubbing his temples. She looked very disappointed, but agreed to text and meet up some other time. They said their goodbyes.

 

**JOHN. -SH**

**Alright, alright. I’m coming.** , John sent back. He hailed a cab and quickly arrived at Baker Street.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Sherlock, this better be good,” John said upon entering their flat. He found Sherlock sitting in his normal chair. He was dressed in his blue robe and silk pajamas. He obviously hadn’t left the house all day. Sherlock scrutinized John, looking him up and down. John glared at the taller man. “What is it, Sherlock?"

 

Sherlock gave a curt nod. “Don’t worry. She has 4- no, 5 cats. I don’t think you would’ve liked living with her that much,” said Sherlock calmly.

 

John started. “How did-" He shook his head. “You know what? Never mind,” John said tersely. "And it’s not like it’s such a joy living with heads in the fridge,” John snapped at him. He took his seat. “Sherlock, what am I here for?”

 

Sherlock smiled at him a little too brightly. “Good question.” He tossed a small box to John. “Open it, please,” he requested. John carefully opened the box, suspicions rising. John looked blankly at it, flabbergasted. Inside the box was a ring. A beautiful silver ring with blue lining and geometric designs carved into the outside.

 

“Wow.” John blinked. "Uh… what is this?” John asked, not understanding.

 

Sherlock sighed. “It’s a ring, John.”

 

John glared at him. “Yes, obviously, it’s a ring, but why are you giving it to me?”

 

“Try to make a deduction,” he replied.

 

John sighed. “Is this because you always spoil the milk?”

 

“John, please. It’s an engagement ring.”

 

“Right. An engagement ring.” John rolled his eyes. “That explains everything.”

 

“It should,” Sherlock replied. He looked fairly annoyed, but also anxious, wanting him to understand.

 

John tried to keep his cool. It didn’t work. “Sherlock, would you please explain whose engagement ring this is?”

 

Sherlock took a deep breath. “It’s your engagement ring, from me.”

 

John’s mouth dropped open in shock. He blinked a few times and swallowed visibly. It was only right for him to be shocked- it had been only a year ago that he and Mary split up. John had kept prioritizing cases over his marriage, and she finally had enough. Mary made him choose between her and Sherlock. It wasn’t much of a choice, to be honest. He would never stop going back to Sherlock and the thrill of the case. John regretted it sometimes, like now, when Sherlock was being obnoxious. But then he thought about what it would have been like if Sherlock hadn’t been in his life- dull, boring, and ordinary were the first three words that popped into his head when he thought about that. John had even had a bit of a test run of that life, after The Fall. It took John a while to get over that, but eventually Sherlock had been forgiven. If John hadn’t met Sherlock, then Mary would’ve been a perfect match for him.

 

He shook his head. “You suddenly want to marry me.” His face was bouncing back and forth from ‘what the hell?’ to ‘what in the actual fuck?’. “Okay. Ah… did we skip a step somewhere?” John was trying to keep his face neutral, but failing miserably. Sherlock wanted to marry him?

 

“It’s for a case, John. You can be so slow,” Sherlock answered snappishly, folding his arms.

 

John sat back in his chair, raising his eyebrows and squaring his shoulders. “You're proposing to me for a case. Right. I’m going to need an explanation on this one, Sherlock.”

 

“I’ve been consulted on a case. Some couples were found murdered at a relationship therapy clinic in Newbiggin-by-the-sea. We’re going undercover as an engaged couple to investigate,” Sherlock explained, trying to be patient. He suddenly sat back in his chair and started fiddling with his shirt sleeves. “We’re going in two weeks, and since we all know that you’re a TERRIBLE actor, I think we’d better get some practice in.” He glanced over at John, who looked offended. “Oh, please. Don’t give me that look. We all know it’s true.” Sherlock said flippantly in reply to John's sputtering. “As soon as someone asked if we were engaged, you’d exclaim that you’re not gay.”

 

John glared at him, but begrudgingly admitted that this was true. He was a little worried about what he meant by “practice”. Practice doing what? Being engaged, obviously, but how would you go about that? He sat in silence for a little while, thoughts running around his head- _‘he’s my best friend, I can’t be engaged to him’, ‘I’m not gay!’, ‘What will everyone think?’,_ and _‘…Well, why not?’_. That last one troubled him the most. One part of him not being disturbed at all that he was getting engaged to his best friend? That’s a little scary. He didn’t want to get engaged to Sherlock. Definitely not. Sherlock was a nightmare to live with WITHOUT the rings. How would he be when they had the rings on? He just couldn’t imagine exchanging kisses with him, or sharing a bedroom- oh god, how would THAT work? John started blushing furiously before shaking the thought out of his head. He didn’t want to think about that. This was out of the question. He could NEVER be engaged to his best friend, let alone Sherlock. What would Greg say? Even worse, what would Mycroft say? How could they keep up an act in front of their friends and family?

 

Then again, there are couples who are dead. It’s only for a few weeks, and it’s not like it’s Christmas or anything when they have to see everyone. _'It’s just a couple of weeks, then we go, solve the case, and come back. Then we take the rings off and nothing ever happened,’_ John reasoned.

 

“Look, John, if it helps, you can set some boundaries,” Sherlock offered. "But I need to have a convincing boyfriend for this case. A simple yes or no will suffice.” He seemed nervous, almost.

 

John rubbed his temples. He shook his head. “Sherlock, you’re really asking a lot this time.”

 

“John,” Sherlock said seriously. “You’ve killed a man for me.” John froze. He could hear his heartbeat, and he could’ve sworn Sherlock could too. He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again.

 

Finally, he sighed. “Alright, Sherlock. I’ll be engaged to you for the duration of the case.” Sherlock’s eyes lit up. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by John. “Not so fast, Sherlock,” he said. “I’m going to lay down some ground rules. First- you get a human amount of sleep every night. Your staying up all night affects my sleeping schedule too, you know. Second, you are going to eat. You brain cannot run on air, Sherlock. It’s incredible that you haven’t starved to death yet.” Sherlock started to grumble. “And I’m not done,” John continued. “Third- you will be polite. That includes Greg, and though I don’t expect you to be polite to them, at least make an effort with Sally, Anderson, and-” _‘God forbid,’_ John thought, ”-Mycroft.”

 

Sherlock sneered. “Please, John. You can’t expect me to-“

 

“Fourth- You will fix ALL of this when the case is solved,” John continued. Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m not kidding. You’re going to make sure that everyone who knew about the 'engagement'”- he used air quotes there- “will know that it was all fake. I am not going to deal with that. You are,” John said firmly. “Fifth, anything that I’m not comfortable with will be stopped immediately,” John finished.

 

Sherlock considered these conditions, annoyed. “John, how can you possibly expect me to follow all those rules?”

 

“If need be, I’ll correct you,” John said, unyielding. He stared at Sherlock defiantly. Sherlock stared back. He seemed suspended in that moment, his eyes searching John’s.

 

Finally, he nodded. “Fine. My conditions are that you are a believable fiancee and don’t mess anything up. We only get one shot at this,” Sherlock said solemnly. John nodded. “Good,” Sherlock said.

 

The tension in the air was rising. John looked at the ring. It really was gorgeous. The ring was shining silver with a bright blue lining. John could have chosen it himself, if he was to choose a ring. He then took the beautiful ring and put it slowly on his finger. He felt an undeniable happiness- but from where? Why? Sherlock seemed a little nervous. He was normally so self confident. Where did that come from? These questions were buzzing around John’s brain at the speed of light.

 

Sherlock was staring at him the entire time, completely unreadable. Then, Sherlock took out a ring that was the same, but with red lining, and put it on. They stared at each other for another few seconds before Sherlock cracked a small smile. He put his hand out to shake on it. When they shook, it seemed to John as if he was sealing his fate.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Sherlock! The mess you’ve made,” Mrs.Hudson said. It was the next day and John was still a little confused about the whole thing. He sleepily made himself tea and toast for the lazy morning. He was still sitting at the table reading the paper over his unfinished breakfast when Mrs.Hudson came in. “John, how do you put up with it? There are papers all over the place. You need to do something about this.” Sherlock looked up at her. He was sitting in the middle of the living room, looking at files on old experiments.

 

“Mrs. Hudson, John already nags me enough about my mess. I don’t need two nannies,” he told her, looking at another document and running his hand through his hair.

 

Mrs.Hudson stared at his hand, then clasped her hands together. “Oh, Sherlock! You finally proposed!” she exclaimed, her face contorted into a rather obnoxious smile, looking for all the world like she just received news that her husband died again. John cringed. He was hoping that it wouldn’t be too obvious, but he supposed it was rather conspicuous. Everyone was looking for rings on their fingers anyways. "I thought you were going to wait until November. When we talked about it you were so set on a spring wedding.” John stopped reading the paper. They had talked about a wedding before? "But this is so wonderful! The rings are gorgeous, Sherlock, lovely choice. I must tell Mrs.Turner! Oh, she’ll be so pleased. I’m glad you finally worked it out. You two are so good together,” she crooned. “Oh, my two boys, getting married! I don’t think I could be happier,” Mrs. Hudson beamed. “We’ll have to do something to celebrate. I’ll start the planning!” On that note, she headed out the door.

 

John was still pondering over what Mrs.Hudson meant by “when we talked about it” when Sherlock came into the kitchen. “That went well,” John said.

 

“When she says celebrate, does she actually mean that she’s going to plan a party?” Sherlock asked grimly. John sobered immediately, and frowned. “That’ll be… interesting.” Sherlock didn’t sound nearly as upset as John was, but then again, he was never one for emotions. He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but he definitely wasn’t frowning.

 

“Interesting is not the word I would use,” John said matter-of-factly. “I would use ‘exasperating’, or ‘bloody annoying’.” Sherlock started to chuckle at that. John joined in, until they were lost in fits of giggles. When the laughter finally died down, John noticed an unmistakable twinkle in his friend’s eye. John was entranced- _‘are his eyes always that blue?’_ John found himself thinking. Sherlock noticed him staring. _'Of course. He never misses a thing,’_ John cursed himself when Sherlock smiled gently at him.

 

The silence was broken by Sherlock. “Do hurry, John. I have some information I want to get about the victims from Lestrade,” he called over his shoulder as he went up to his room to change from his robe.

 

“Greg!” John called after him, trying to implement the conditions with a mouth full of toast. He finished his breakfast quickly and hurried up to his room to change. _‘This is getting a little weird,’_ John thought. _‘He seems so… happy. It’s very strange,’_ John thought. ‘ _It could be the case,’_ he reasoned. ‘ _And what did Mrs.Hudson mean by “when we talked about it before”?’_ John was a little worried about that. He got dressed rather quickly and went downstairs to find Sherlock waiting impatiently. When he saw John, he smiled brightly at him. John smiled back. “Let’s go, then!” Sherlock exclaimed, and rushed out the door. He summoned a cab and the two men set off.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

John and Sherlock found Greg Lestrade waiting for them in the lobby. He grinned at the shorter man as they approached.

 

“John, how have you been?” he asked in a friendly manner.

 

“Pretty well, and yourself?” John said in reply. They had gotten to be pretty good friends. They often went out for drinks to catch up when Sherlock was being a prat. It helped keep John sane.

 

“You know how it is."

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Pleasantries were really not his area. John raised his eyebrows. “Sherlock. Be polite,” John cautioned.

 

Sherlock appeared to be muttering to himself under his breath. “Why... ever agree.. stupid…”

 

John turned to Greg again. “So I understand you have some information on the victims?”

 

“That’s right, I got- oh my god, Sherlock!” Greg yelled. Other people in the lobby stopped and stared. Sherlock had been fiddling with his hands when Greg noticed the ring. “What- you have a ring on!”

 

“Good deduction, Detective Inspector. I have high hopes for you career if you carry on like that,” Sherlock sneered.

 

“Sherlock!” John exclaimed. “What did I tell you? Be POLITE, Sherlock, POLITE.”

 

Sherlock glared at him, then sighed. “Fine. Yes, Le-"

 

John gave him a look.

 

“-Greg.” It seemed as though contempt was dripping from his words. “I am wearing a ring, that is correct.”

 

Greg was rather amused by John’s control over Sherlock. But he quickly went back to the fact that Sherlock was wearing a ring- “and so are you, John! And they match!”

 

John sighed. “Yes, that’s right.”

 

Sherlock was very annoyed. “Yes, we’re wearing matching rings, that’s right. Now, can I have the information?”

 

Realisation hit Greg Lestrade like a ton of bricks. “Sherlock!”

 

"WHAT, Lestrade?”

 

“You proposed?”

 

“VERY good, Detective Inspector. I could almost give you an Anderson Award for figuring that out,” Sherlock replied sarcastically. “Really, you’re almost as slow as John was when I offered.”

 

“I didn’t know you’d have the courage to do it! I mean, when you called me-“

 

Sherlock’s eyes flashed. "Greg…"

 

“-it seemed like you were going to wait a while longer. But I suppose your study, your-“

 

“Lestrade,” Sherlock warned.

 

“-‘Study In John’, as you called it-"

 

“Detective Inspector, would you kindly SHUT UP?” Sherlock shouted, clearly embarrassed and annoyed. John watched all this, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. _‘A Study in John?’_ John thought. _‘What the hell?’_

 

Sherlock clenched his teeth together. Lestrade’s voice trailed off. “-I, uh. Oh. Um, sorry mate. I hope that’s not- uh- anyways,” Lestrade continued awkwardly. “Here’s the information, then.” He handed a file to Sherlock, who practically snatched it out of his hands.

 

John opened his mouth, obviously about to say something, when Sherlock cut him off with a “yes, thank you, we’ll be going now, I owe you one, goodbye.” He smiled very forcefully at Greg one last time before strutting off quickly with a stormy look on his face. John stayed behind for a good four seconds, opening and closing his mouth with a troubled look on his face. “John!” Sherlock called, already leafing through the papers. John hurried after him, very concerned.

 

Sherlock hailed a cab. Once they got in, they sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute or two before John asked, “Ah, Sherlock? What- um…what’s this ‘Study In John’ that Greg was talking about?”

 

“Not now, John, I’m thinking,” Sherlock answered, eyes scanning the pages in front of him, lost in his own world.

 

“…Right. Well, we’re going to talk about it at some point,” John cautioned, trying to take some control of the situation. Sherlock wasn’t paying any attention. John sighed. _‘Sherlock talked about this to two people before he proposed to me. That’s overconfident, to say the least,’_ John thought. _‘Then again, Sherlock is a man to predict and know exactly what I’m going to say, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,’_ he reasoned. _‘He’s also pompous and arrogant.’_ John thought for a moment. _'Best to just leave it.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok but i love this chapter so much. am i allowed to say that?
> 
> fic recs/ comments/ requests for headcanons/ questions/ suggestions = comment below or shoot me a message at http://dr-john-im-not-gay-watson.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock looked completely horrified. John closed his eyes tight, counted to ten, and opened them.

 

 _‘Nope. Still here,’_ he thought with a grimace. When they came into Baker Street, they found the inside of the flat covered in decorations. They eyed their living room in disbelief, looking at the unfortunate shade of pink that had been chosen to decorate the room with streamers and balloons for the engagement celebration. It was ugly and out of place, especially against their wallpaper and items. Skulls and hearts don’t look especially good together.

 

“Oh good, you’re back!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed with enthusiasm as she walked into the room holding more streamers. "What do you think?”

 

John made a face and commented, “Mrs. Hudson, ah, we were thinking, maybe the celebrations could be a bit more… downscale.”

 

“What John is trying to say is less fairy lights. In fact, less of everything.”

 

“SHERLOCK.” John was trying to approach the subject carefully. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the decorations, it’s just that, well, he didn’t appreciate the decorations. But he didn’t want to SAY that.

 

Sherlock gave a loud and dramatic sigh. “Please,” he whined, stretching out the e.

 

Mrs. Hudson giggled. “Oh, my two boys! You go so well together! It’s alright. You can take down as many as you’d like. Just please leave up the banner,” she said, pointing to a banner that the men didn’t even notice amongst the rest of the decorations. It said ‘Sherlock+John=Love’ in large red letters. John screwed his eyes shut. He then rubbed his temples for what seemed to be far too long and sat down in his chair.

 

“Sure, Mrs. Hudson. We’ll leave it up,” Sherlock answered for John when it became plain that he was not to be disturbed.

 

“Okay, Sherlock. Oh, my two boys! Together at last!" she cried as she exited the room. Sherlock slammed the door behind her and leaned on the door frame.

 

“I swear to God, I will kill a man if I have to hear her say ‘my two boys’ one more time,” John muttered, both angry and exhausted. Sherlock chuckled, but then sobered.

 

“I am sorry, John. I didn’t realise that-”

 

“No, no. It’s not your fault,” John sighed, head in hands. “It isn’t,” John insisted when he saw Sherlock’s dubious and depressed expression. John put his head back in his hands.

 

 _'It's fine. I'm overreacting. It’s harmless. We can organise the party for another time, or maybe just-’_ His thoughts were interrupted by a warm feeling on the top of his head. He looked up. Sherlock’s face was inches from his. Sherlock turned crimson, walked stiffly over to the couch and buried his face in the victim’s files.

 

John was shocked still. _‘... What was that?’_ John thought. The warm feeling lingered and now it was obvious what had happened. Sherlock had kissed him. On the top of his head. Sherlock. Kissed him. Sherlock Holmes, detective extraordinaire, had kissed him. Sherlock. The one in the deerstalker hat. Mycroft’s brother. Best man, best friend and fake fiancé of John Watson. On the head, but still. John stared unblinking at the ceiling for several seconds before snapping his head towards his friend on the couch. Sherlock had his head buried in the file, quite literally- he was trying so hard not to be seen that he had put up the file as a makeshift fort around his face. It was pretty obvious that he was blushing down to the roots of his hair.

 

John was flabbergasted. _‘How…? What…? I… what?’_ He was unable to think straight for several seconds. Finally, a pleasant feeling spread over him- joy. He was elated, for (as his brain thought) no particular reason at all. His heart, however, told a different story. He was ecstatic that Sherlock had kissed him. He wasn’t quite sure why, yet, but he was. His mouth twitch in a small smile. John got up from his chair and went to the kitchen. “Tea, Sherlock?” he called.

 

“I, uh, ahm. Yes, please,” was the reply. He sounded downright embarrassed. John thought it was rather cute and quite an endearing look, especially on a normally aloof and withdrawn man such as Sherlock. John prepared the tea and delivered it with a gentle smile. He peeked up at John, met his eyes, and blushed furiously before looking down into his mug. John paused and made a quick decision. He bent down and placed a slow, lingering kiss on Sherlock’s head before heading back to his seat. Sherlock looked up. He gave a small smile and then went back to study the file. They sat in silence for a long while, and both men felt perfectly at peace.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
A couple hours later, Sherlock was pacing about the room, more agitated than earlier that afternoon. John finally plucked up the courage to ask him what was wrong.

 

“NOTHING, John, NOTHING! That in itself is the entire problem. The victims are so ordinary, so regular. There’s nothing wrong with them! They don’t have money issues, or irregular activity marked on their therapy sheets, or issues at work, or anything of the sort! They are all… so… hmm.” He suddenly stopped pacing and frowned.

 

“What is it, Sherlock?”

 

“They’re all ordinary. All of them. There’s a pattern! A pattern, John, a pattern! They’re all ordinary.”

 

“Well,” John muttered. “That helps.” He was sitting with the paper out in front of him, not digesting a single word on the page. He was thinking about earlier. What did those kisses mean? Why did he feel so happy, like a giant bubble that was ready to make him explode whenever they touched? _‘I must be better at acting than Sherlock thought, if I’m getting so into character,’_ John thought, trying to smother the rising panic inside of him. He found it easier to think about how he wanted to feel than how he actually felt. Sherlock continued to stare at the victim files. John felt inclined to interrupt his flatmate’s thinking.

 

“Sherlock, I’ve been- uh, "engaged" to you for a day now, and yet I still don’t know much about the victims or anything,” he explained, hesitant. Sherlock looked up at John, stared into the older man’s eyes for a couple seconds, and finally smiled.

 

“Yes. That’s correct. How about I explain them to you over dinner?” he asked, looking pretty casual about it. John started.

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. Dinner in 10,” he said as he waltzed towards the door. John stared after him, not fully comprehending what had just happened.

 

“Was that an invitation for a date, Sherlock?” John asked, trying to sound just as casual as Sherlock did.

 

Sherlock paused in the doorframe. He turned around and leaned against it. Giving a seductive smile, he replied, “yes. It was.” He turned and sashayed out of the room.

 

John gaped after him. ‘Was that… a sultry smile? Sherlock Holmes just gave me a sultry smile.’

 

“Well. Ah, right. Okay. I’m gonna just… yeah. Okay.” He headed up to his room and shut the door behind him, leaning against it. Not knowing why, he started rifling through his closet for something decent. _‘I’m going out to dinner with Sherlock. What do I wear? Shit. He always wears something so refined.’_ He finally decided to wear his cream jumper. John wasn’t sure why he was so… concerned, all of a sudden. _‘It doesn’t matter what I wear, does it? It doesn’t matter.’_

 

He walked downstairs to find Sherlock holding up the skull, as per Hamlet. Dressed in an ivory black suit and a navy shirt, his overcoat and scarf, he was ready to go. Sherlock glanced over at John, smiled, and swished out the door, leaving the image of the trailing coat and scarf burned into John’s brain.

 

Grinning, John bounded down the stairs after Sherlock. Sherlock hailed a cab as soon as he stepped out of 221B’s doorframe. As usual, a cab appeared at his call. As John stepped into the cab after Sherlock, he lifted his eyebrows and smiled at the consulting detective.

 

“Happy?” Sherlock asked. He was smirking at John.

 

“Bastard,” John said, never breaking his grin. Sherlock chuckled in return, then looked out of the window at London streaking by. John watched him for a while, eyes touching on his sharp cheekbones before landing on his lips. Those glorious lips, with a deep cupid’s bow and a pale pink colour, soft, warm, smirking… smirking? John’s eyes snapped up only to find Sherlock staring. A slight blush had blossomed over his cheeks, and yet he still managed to look arrogant even with that delicate flush.

 

Sherlock’s eyes danced. John could almost feel the electricity in the air, humming and buzzing, making him on edge and yet so relaxed in the company of his eccentric flatmate. It felt exciting and dangerous. “Here we are, thank you,” Sherlock said, turning his attention to the cabbie. They had pulled over in front of Angelo’s.

 

“Nice choice,” John commended.

 

Sherlock straightened and smiled. “I thought you might like it,” he said, pleased with himself for drawing a compliment out of John. John paid the cabbie and they entered the restaurant to the uproarious welcome of Angelo, who took it upon himself to put a candle on their regular table by the window overlooking the street. They sat down and looked over the menu for a couple minutes.

 

“I think I’m going to get the Fettuccine Alfredo, what about you?”

 

Sherlock only shrugged in reply. John gave him a sharp look. Sherlock continued to look at the menu, distaste etched on his face. “I suppose I’ll order the polenta,” he muttered.

 

John nodded in approval. “Have a few bites of mine too, alright?” He looked up at Sherlock, whose face flashed in shock, then neutralised again. “What?”

 

“Nothing, I just-” He looked pleased. “Isn’t that what they do in movies? Sharing dishes at an Italian restaurant on the first date?”

 

John chuckled. “I’m shocked! Sherlock Holmes knows the stereotypical first date! Haven’t you sworn off pop culture?” he teased, grinning.

 

Sherlock scoffed and gave a soft smile. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

 

“I know. You’re bloody brilliant,” John answered before thinking about what he was saying. Sherlock’s head snapped up to meet John’s eyes. Both of the men felt as though the air was too thick to breathe. John sucked in a quick breath and blushed, casting his eyes downward and biting his lip. John complimenting Sherlock was nothing new, but in this setting, it seemed... different. Romantic. Seductive.

 

Sherlock's gaze was almost wistful. John nearly jumped out of his chair when he felt Sherlock’s spidery fingers cover his own. Though his act was one of self confidence, Sherlock’s blush betrayed him.

 

“So” John cleared his throat. “The, ah, the case.”

 

Sherlock snapped out of his daze. “Yes. The case.” He swallowed. “The case. Right.” He cleared his throat, looked at their hands (which were resting lightly on top of one another) and smiled at them. He cleared his throat again. “Ah, well. As you know, these victims were all killed at the same relationship clinic in Newbiggins-by-the-sea- which is an idiotic name for a town, but unfortunately, it's not mine to name.” John laughed, which earned a smile from Sherlock. “Now. There were three couples murdered in all- the Davis’, the Van Trouts and an unmarried couple, two men. They were all shot in their rooms at a close distance. All were all killed the night before the couples were due to leave, suggesting the motive is something more personal. It’s possible that the killer’s relationships didn’t work out and he has decided to take it out on more successful and happier couples. Or he might have just decided to kill the annoying ones. That’s what I’d do.” Sherlock was rambling at this point, not paying any attention to John until he cleared his throat, dragging Sherlock back down to Earth.

 

“Right. So do these couples have any shared traits at all?” John asked, hoping to provide some insight or aid in a new discovery.

 

“Already thought of that. None of them had anything in common- from social classes to sexual orientation to race.” Noticing John’s slightly disappointed look, he consoled him, “it was a good angle to investigate, though. Thank you.” John gave Sherlock a small smile. “The only thing that stands out is that they all don’t have anything that stands out. Which, in itself, is suspicious.” He shrugged.

 

John pondered for a moment, furrowing his brow. “So your theory about the killings being personal could be correct.”

 

“Probably is.”

 

John grinned. “Bastard.” Sherlock smiled back.

 

Angelo came over. “Sherlock, John! I’m so sorry I didn’t come to chat earlier. We’re very busy tonight,” he explained, gesturing behind him. “So, what’s the occasion?”

 

Sherlock smiled at John. He held up his hand, spreading his fingers apart so it was easy to see the light shining off of the silver band. He kept his eyes on John the whole time, smiling and looking as though he was in love. ‘Which is ridiculous, of course,’ John thought as he looked back at Sherlock and bit his lip. He winked at Sherlock, and held up his own hand.

 

“He proposed,” John said, quieter than he intended. Something softened in Sherlock’s face. He smile was softer, more gentle, and his eyebrows creased in a bittersweet expression. It was for John, just for John. No one had seen Sherlock look at them like they were the world; no one had seen him in a place of such desperate approval-seeking, of bitten lips and half smiles, of words almost said but not. John’s breath hitched as he saw the raw emotion etched on Sherlock’s face. He gulped and licked his lips, all of a sudden feeling dehydrated, his heart pounding faster and faster. But then Sherlock looked up, and the moment was past.

 

“It took more courage than I thought it would,” Sherlock confessed, “I don’t think I could be happier.”

 

John smiled. There seemed to be truth behind his words- _‘but that’s just his charm and acting skills,’_ John thought. “Anyways. I’ll have the Fettuccine Alfredo, and Sherlock’ll have the polenta." Sherlock took in a breath as if to say something, but one glance at John deflated his chest. “You will eat it, even if I have to shove it down your bloody throat,” John threatened, eyebrows raised.

 

Angelo chuckled and slapped John’s back. “I’ll be back with your meals,” he boomed, already starting for the kitchen.

 

Sherlock smiled at his receding back. Then he turned immediately towards John. “So. We will go on the 16th, in 12 days, meaning we have 12 days to do research on all the staff members. We'll only be staying there for five days. It’s essential we get the evidence we need and call Lestrade within those five days.” An aura of excitement descended on the pair.

 

The game was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my bee myc for the beta! ao3: Devisama tumblr: cakeofficialmycroft


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